


recessional

by hongmunmu



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Asexual Relationship, Fenders, M/M, Trans Fenris, bigender anders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-09
Updated: 2015-08-09
Packaged: 2018-04-13 21:10:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4537521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hongmunmu/pseuds/hongmunmu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pieces of having things in common.</p>
            </blockquote>





	recessional

There was a pause.

Anders glanced at the clock.

"Your place is pretty far away. If you want to go back, it’s fine."

Fenris shrugged. “It doesn’t matter, I can go whenever. There are night buses.”

Another pause. “Do you want to go for a smoke?” Fenris said nonchalantly. It wasn’t a hugely thoughtful or original expression of friendship, but for Fenris, it was something. Anders smiled.

"Sure."

 

The sky was a soft pink when they exited the clinic. Residual warmth from the spring day lingered in the air, but as the early evenings go, a light cold wind began to clear it out. Petrichor hung thickly around them like a cloud and Anders breathed it in gratefully. They felt no rain but the asphalt was dotted with specks, as though an April shower had just begun, but picked itself up with their approach.

Fenris pulled a pack out of his pocket and tapped it against his palm, pulling out two cigarettes. He handed one to Anders and held his own between his lips, holding the lighter in one hand and covering the flame with the other. He offered the lighter to Anders, who lit his cigarette with slightly less finesse than Fenris, and slipped the lighter back into the smaller man’s pocket before replacing his hand in his own. Fenris apparently didn’t notice, unresponsive as he always was, his eyes on the far end of the car park.

Anders mirrored him, taking a drag, and attempted to stifle the instinctive cough that welled up in his throat. Fenris’ acute sense of hearing picked up on it, however, and he glanced over; embarrassed, Anders quickly looked the other way and pretended he too was lost in thought. He could still feel the large dark green eyes studying him, however, even as he focused his full attention on a Mercedes that looked very out of place in this particular parking lot.

"You don’t smoke."

The gravelly voice came from beside him. It wasn’t an accusatory, or mocking tone; simply an honest, blunt observation, as was trademark of Fenris. Anders hesitated for a moment, debating whether to lie or be honest, and decided on the latter.

"No," he admitted apologetically, not feeling quite as stupid as he had pictured. Fenris scoffed and blew out a stream of smoke.

"You don’t have to lie," he mumbled, pressing his chin into his scarf. "I don’t want to - like - pressure you into stuff."

"I wanted to spend time with you," Anders said quietly. Fenris flushed and looked away, dropping the cigarette butt and crushing it with his boot. Hiding.

There was a short silence, though it wasn’t particularly awkward. Then Fenris lifted his head. “I should have filmed you,” he said, a tinge of humour in his voice. Anders laughed.

"I can do it again if you want. Any time, any place. Art is my passion."

Fenris laughed at that. “No, you’re a doctor.  You should be setting an example. Give that here.” He took the cigarette from Anders’ pale fingers and placed it between his lips. Anders smiled, because that was probably the closest voluntary contact he and Fenris had shared. Fenris smiled too, very discreetly, lips still on the filter. Anders, quietly proud of himself, looked away and pretended he hadn’t seen. The silence was comfortable.

 

* * *

 

 

"I am glad you’re coming, you know,” Anders said lightly. “You don’t have to look so glum.”

“I don’t care about medicine. Or science.”

“Well, then you can be there for moral support. You know how scary it is giving a presentation surrounded by hundreds of people who are younger and cooler than you?”

“No.”

Anders just sighed, shaking his head.

Fenris perched on a desk, dangling his legs off the edge, not bothering to pretend he was tall enough to reach the floor. Anders was moving around, packing things like cables and various scattered notes into his ridiculous little bag. Fenris watched him, bored.

"Your real name’s not Anders."

Anders chuckled, in his weird, tired way. “And your real name’s not Fenris.” 

"No. So what does Anders mean?"

"I tell you mine, you tell me yours?"

Fenris just huffed. “Whatever.”

"Anders is just short for the place I come from."

"Which is?"

"The Anderfels."

Fenris smirked mischievously. “I suppose you are the only known _surviving_  citizen of that place.”

Anders finished zipping up the rectangular bag before turning around. “And you…?”

"Little wolf."

Anders looked like he wanted to laugh at first but his expression quickly changed when he remembered context. He tried to avoid a pitying look, however, not wanting Fenris to have any more reason to dislike him.

"You’ve never thought about changing it? It must be kind of adding insult to injury to have to live with a name that someone like that gave to you."

Fenris shrugged. “I wouldn’t know what to change it to. I got used to it. It’s my name now. I don’t have some huge reason to change it.”

Fenris didn’t add that he knew Danarius would mock him if he found out he’d tried to run from the name he was given. That he refused to give him the satisfaction.

Anders nodded. “Fair enough.”

Truthfully, Fenris didn’t really mind that Anders’ initial reaction was to laugh. He knew the name was stupid. And Anders had a nice laugh. It wasn’t mocking. Usually, whenever he laughed, it seemed more honest. Anders had a tendency to only laugh with people rather than at them, he’d observed. Hawke laughed at people. Not that Fenris disliked Hawke - but regardless. 

Anders, he had small wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, laugh lines, which crinkled up when he smiled, even in his stressed times. Danarius had laughed constantly, but he had no such lines. His only lines were from age.

Fenris was snapped out of his thoughts by Anders tapping the door.

"You coming?" he asked, one hand holding it open, head leaning in inquisitively. Fenris nodded and jumped the few inches down off the desk, swiftly following Anders out the door and up the dirty stairs.

 

* * *

 

 

"This reminds me of the night we met," Anders said cheerfully.

"What, Lowtown at night?" Fenris scoffed.

"That, and we’re both tipsy." He glanced over at Fenris, whose cheeks were blushing dark red against his brown skin. "Okay, you’re a little more than tipsy." Fenris smirked.

"Where did you say the station was round here again?" Anders inquired, glancing around. Fenris rolled his eyes.

"Just crash at my place, it’s totally around the corner. Yours is on, like…the other side of Kirkwall." Anders bit his lip.

"I don’t know. The clinic…"

Fenris raised an eyebrow. “You’re trying to tell me that _you_ have _never_ spent a night out. _You_. Ever. It’s like you’re on… self-imposed 'ouse harrest. House arrest.” He gave a simpering grin, very pleased with himself at the joke. Anders scratched at the stubble on the side of his face, considering.

"Agh… alright, then. Do you have enough beds though?"

"No."

"Ah. Well. We’ll make do."

They walked on through the streets. The moon was full and round, shining brightly, and Anders’ breath came out in small white puffs. Though he could feel the cold on his face, and see his breath condensing in front of him, Anders didn’t feel cold, he realised. He didn’t know if it was the coat, or the alcohol, or the general contentedness, and frankly he didn’t care much. Beside him, Fenris turned the collar of his fluffy coat up, trying to pull it over his neck and chin. Anders looked on.

"Do you want my scarf?" he asked. Fenris paused before nodding, still trying to hide his face in his collar. Anders pulled the scarf off from his neck and wrapped it around Fenris’ neck and lower face. Fenris’ smile was visible through his eyes, and he offered a muffled thanks through the layers of fabric.

Eventually they came to a closed-off complex. Fenris fiddled with his keys before finding the right one and unlocked the gate. He took Anders up a disabled-access ramp and through a door leading to stairs that spiraled up each floor’s balcony. They made their way up, Fenris stumbling occasionally, Anders steadying him, until eventually they paused for a minute while Anders caught his breath.

"Maker," he puffed. "This is a lot of stairs you take every day." Fenris shrugged.

"There’s a lift inside but it doesn’t work." Then he looked at Anders who was gripping his knees and smirked. "Not all of us have the luxury of ten steps down into our own private little complex."

Anders grinned. “Fitness, muscles, y’know, not my thing.”

"You wound me. Mine happen to be fantastic."

Anders chuckled, and eventually stood up straight, steeling himself. “Okay. I’m ready. Let’s do this.” He started up the next flight of stairs three at a time, and was already on the half-way platform when he noticed Fenris hadn’t followed him up, instead walking down the balcony passing various doors.

"I live on _this_ floor," he called dryly, a laugh in his voice. Anders cursed, puffing again before jogging back down and after Fenris.

"That was unnecessary," he huffed, tugging on Fenris’ coat to slow him down.

"You’re more bearable when you’re out of breath," Fenris remarked, pulling the keys out his pocket again and unlocking the small door in front of them. Anders, being six foot tall, exhausted, and tipsy, did not realise he was taller than the frame and smacked his forehead on it as he followed Fenris in. He yelped, and Fenris turned around in confusion.

"Hah," he barked, before seeing how Anders clamped his hands over his head. "You okay?"

Anders gripped it for a second more before crouching carefully as he made his way through the door. “Yeah, it’s fine,” he laughed. He walked in and looked around while Fenris did the locks and shrugged off his coat, hanging it on a DIY off-center peg that was nailed into the door.

"Nice place," he commented. Fenris snorted.

"Hardly."

It really wasn’t. One small room with default ugly carpet, low ceiling, off-white paint chipping off the walls, various stains. One small couch, a low table, a kettle, a sink, a microwave and a mini-fridge. There were various cigarette butts that had obviously been thrown at the shoddy trash can in the corner, missed, and were never picked up. Next to the bin was a collection of empty wine bottles and assorted pieces of glass.

"Reminds me of house arrest," Anders said wistfully. Fenris’ eyes went wide.

"Oh my god," he said incredulously, "Oh, my god, you actually _were_  put on house arrest. My previous joke just became so much more ingenious.”

"Maybe if you hadn’t had a Freudian slip while you delivered it," Anders commented wryly. Fenris chuckled.

"What did you even get done for?"

"Drug possession. Hashtag, illegal doctor life."

Fenris sniggered while Anders took off his coat and hung it over Fenris’ on the peg before planting himself on the couch. Fenris sat next to him, and they both sat for a second.

"In order to convert this into a bed, we are probably going to have to stand up,” Fenris said, with no indication of moving whatsoever.

Anders chortled. “I am not moving for at least a month after those stairs.” He settled himself in and slouched right against the back so his chin was pressed to his chest to prove his point.

"You should sit like that all the time. You’re shorter than me now. I feel very powerful and important."

Anders chuckled and stood, walking over to the small counter. "D’you want water?"

Fenris let out some form of noise that Anders decided to take as affirmative. “Confirmed,” he said. Fenris snorted. Anders grinned as he filled two glass (well, transparent plastic) cups with tap water and held one out to Fenris, who uncurled to retrieve it. They simultaneously downed the water in record time. Fenris threw his cup in the general direction of the sink. It hit the wall and bounced onto the floor.

"Bullseye," he said, smirking lazily. Anders sighed and picked it up before placing it with his own in the sink.

"Come on," he said gently, pulling on Fenris’ arms. "Let’s make this into something big enough for two people to properly sit on." Fenris lazily rolled off the sofa, half-pulled, and knocked his forehead on Anders’ chin as he straightened up. They both groaned and swore, gripping their respective wounds for a minute before making a start on converting the couch. When they were done, Fenris kicked off his boots and chucked them in the general vicinity of the door. Anders sighed.

"You should really stop throwing things," he said, and at this point he decided to take off his shoes too because Fenris was significantly shorter without them and it didn’t feel fair. He walked over, and Fenris stared at him curiously for a minute, as if he had just really seen Anders properly for the first time. Anders cocked his head questioningly. Fenris suddenly shook his head, snapping out of it.

"Sorry. I just realised you’re the first person I’ve had round."

Anders smiled. “Not what you were expecting?”

"No," Fenris admitted. "I thought it would have been Hawke, but I feel like I don’t see him as much anymore."

"We saw him yesterday."

"Mm."

They both knew it was because the two of them had been spending more time with each other than with Hawke, but neither said it out loud, like it was secret.

Fenris’ pupils were dilated, and his eyes were huge, and dark, greener than the tall wild grasses Anders had played in as a child, greener than the forests he’d passed through on the long train ride to Kirkwall. He leaned in slowly, and kissed him.

There was no immediate reaction; Fenris neither kissed back nor pushed him away. Anders pulled back after a few seconds, realising what he’d done. Fenris’ eyes were downcast to the left, and he swallowed, biting his lip.

"I… I’m sorry," Anders began. "You’re… ugh. I’m older than you, and you’re drunk. I shouldn’t have. I guess I hit my head harder than I thought -”

“Shh,” Fenris murmured. “It’s just a kiss. I liked it.”

"No, but I still shouldn’t have -"

"I’m telling you it’s fine, aren’t I? So it’s fine." His voice was harder, less slurred. Fenris took a tiny step forward. Truthfully he was anxious, embarrassed even - kissing Anders, who was experienced, older, who did this kind of thing a lot, was a nerve-inducing experience for Fenris, who had never actually had a romantic relationship, and his only sexual experiences were in no context to be compared to the situation he was in now. With anyone else he’d have no idea what he was doing. As they always did, memories resurfaced - but he liked Anders, and he felt certain in that. And he stopped, and thought that over again – _he liked Anders_. The admittance didn’t feel like as much of a wound to his pride as he had expected. Like it was okay. If anything, he was just self-conscious. Anders didn’t laugh at people, though. Anders never laughed at people, just with them.

With that he felt another small swell of affection, of content, and it chased away the darker things he was starting to remember and shut them behind a door in his mind saying, _I’ll destroy you eventually._

He raised his hands to either side of Anders’ jaw, lifted his heels a few inches off the floor, and very slowly pressed their lips together. It took Anders a second to react, to mentally weigh his options, before his pale, bony hands wrapped around Fenris tightly, one hand on the small of his back, the other cupping the back of his head.

It was strange how after so many years of no contact, of no affection, of no touch -

Fenris realised that he’d wanted to be held. 

Anders broke off the kiss then, and pulled Fenris tighter, so their necks interlocked. His hand pulled Fenris into the start of his hairline, chin tilted up over his shoulder. And Fenris smiled uncontrollably like a child into the crease of Anders’s shirt, a surge of validation and sheer contentedness. He almost wanted to ask, _how did you know?_ They sat on the small fold-out bed, and fell back, still holding each other close, Anders’ fingers moving to flick off the lights. Fenris’s fingers dug into Anders’s back. Neither made any attempt to change their position, and Anders’s hold on Fenris was still almost as tight as it had been at first, an hour later. Two hours. They stayed, wordless in their comfort, and shared drunken warmth, and the only disturbance came from a light laugh that Fenris gave into the crook of Anders’ neck. Mouth to ear, a private exchange. And Fenris felt Anders’s reply through vibrations of the chest and the lungs pressed close to his.

Anders’ breaths and laughs stopped, however, a hitch in his breath when his fingers sliding over the back of Fenris’ top felt the small hard clasps of a binder.

“Don’t keep it on while you’re asleep,” he murmured softly. His hands moved to pull the hooks undone through the fabric of the shirt, and once the binder wasn’t restricting Fenris’s chest, his hold returned to its previous position. Fenris paused, stiffening throughout. It was always this, he thought. There would always be one last thing to get in the way when everything else had somehow made it through –

Anders’ eyes were shut. His hold was relaxed. The same as before.

Fenris wanted to jerk out of the embrace, out of the bed, out of the building.

“You don’t mind?”

It was a whisper. To his surprise, Anders let out a soft laugh.

“You’re not the only one,” the reply came. Fenris’ eyebrows creased in brief confusion, and Anders just smiled, and drew him back in to the embrace. Binders loosened, binaries shed.

They drifted off, each with their own private smile.

 


End file.
